Hangover
by Vithian
Summary: Every leave, Manny would inevitably waltz into the Strip, with full intent on getting plastered. Boone would, reluctantly, follow.


**A/N: Hello fanfiction people, stop in to say hi?  
>I've got quite a few stories planned for these two, I'll try to get the rest up soon.<strong>  
><strong>Warnings: Mild slash, some swearing, bout it<br>Notes: Set pre-game, pre-Bitter Springs  
><strong>

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><p>Manny had always felt drawn to the Strip.<p>

It had a sort of life to it, one that couldn't be found anywhere else in the Mojave. He always took his leave there, gambling and drinking the night away. And if he found someone to share a bed with, well, no complaints here.

More often than not, he'd wake up everyone morning with a killer hangover, mouth tasting like vomit, something ridiculous written on his face and no memories of the night before whatsoever. But that was okay, because that was how he liked it. If he could remember all the stupid shit he did when he was drunk, Manny would most likely never venture into public again.

And even if liked to pretend to be a stick in the mud, Boone was pretty fun once you got him drunk enough.

He talked a bit more, saying full sentences rather than monosyllabic replies, and he lost all of his emotionless façade, which was quite depressing because he really got into gambling whilst intoxicated. Even with his impenetrable poker face, Boone refused to gamble when sober. Of course, even without the metaphorical mask, he still didn't have a big emotional palette. That was Manny's job. He balanced them out by being much too expressive.

This was one of those nights, where Manny decided to do everything in his power to get hammered. If one place refused to serve him, telling him that 'he'd had enough all ready' Manny would let loose a drunken slur of swear words, lose his track of thought, and Boone would simply drag him out of one casino and reluctantly into another, the ex-Khan refusing to leave until he was well and truly plastered.

Boone himself had decided to remain mostly sober, knowing that on nights like these, Manny needed someone with a clear head to keep him from killing himself, or pissing someone off who would then proceed to kill him. Or any other number of things that Manny could get up too when left to his own devices. And drunk.

"Topsh'll sherve ush!" Manny drawled, leaning his entire weight on Boone, who had thoughtfully decided to try and support his friend, but was seriously reconsidering. The idea of leaving Manny in some ditch was getting more and more appealing, but chances were he'd get up and make trouble for both himself and the NCR – and they didn't need anymore trouble.

"You don't need any more alcohol. I think it's time we get back to Camp McCarran." It wasn't an experience he was looking forward too. Manny hated the monorail, but at least when he was sober he kept his panic under control. When he was drunk, he had no restraint, simply acting as he pleased.

"But I goshta vishit Topsh!" And with that, he was off, stumbling drunkenly towards the casino. Running a hand over his face, Boone followed, knowing that if he did return to camp without his Spotter, he'd never hear the end of it.

For someone completely off their face, Manny really could stumble fast. Entering The Tops, Boone reluctantly handed over his sniper rifle, expecting to see Manny on the ground, fighting several Chairmen just 'for the hell of it'.

But no. Not only was Manny in line for more drinks, he had been allowed to keep all his weapons. And no one was questioning him or tackling him to the ground. The bartender didn't even question him, or ask why he wanted more alcohol when he was clearly already drunk. Manny did struggle a bit carrying the drinks, but Boone decided that he probably should help him, lest he spill drink everywhere and get them thrown out of yet another casino.

"Thansh Boo'. Yo'know jush when to turn up!" For no particular reason (or any that Boone could see) Manny chose that moment to burst out laughing, again almost spilling the drinks. Quickly, the sniper guided them both to a table, placing the drinks down and making sure his friend didn't miss the seat.

"I hope to God you've got a splitting hangover tomorrow..." Mumbling, Boone thought about buying a room for Manny, and getting back on the monorail by himself. It would certainly be easier, but Manny was his Spotter, his friend. You don't leave friends behind, even if they are annoying drunks.

"Why you alwaysh wear shunglashesh?" And with that, Manny crossed the line. Reflexes dulled by alcohol, Manny wasn't quite quick enough to steal the sunglasses off Boone's face, his wrist caught in the vice known as 'Boone's Hand'. It took the ex-Khan a few seconds to figure out exactly why his hand had stopped before he told it too, but when he did, a face splitting grin broke out across his face. "Fasht, Boone!"

What happened next could be blamed on the dangerously high amount of alcohol Manny had consumed.

Faster than Boone had anticipated, Manny leant in and kissed him. It was drunk, sloppy, and only lasted for a couple of seconds, but in those seconds, Boone released his grip on Manny's wrist, shock claiming his system. Manny stealthily stole the sunglasses, pulling away and placing them on. "But I'm fashter!"

To say he was surprised was an understatement. Try disbelief, astonishment, stunned. Manny, on the other hand, didn't seem to even be phased. He was looking through the sunglasses with surprise, before turning back to Boone. "Do I look cool?"

Then he promptly passed out.

The drinks were knocked off the table by Manny's deadened limbs, completely sprawled all over the table. A few people turned at the loud noise and a janitor sighed when they realized that they had to clean up the mess of drinks now on the floor, but other than that, few people really cared that Manny was now an unconscious mass lying on a table.

If only Boone could follow him.

But someone needed to get them back to Camp McCarran, and Boone let the years of discipline take over and pushed the entire night to the back of his mind. _'Focus on the here, and now.'_

* * *

><p>"Urrgghhh... Would someone perform the honour of killing me?"<p>

"No, because then we wouldn't get the fun out of seeing you suffer."

"You people talk to loud..."

Needless to say, Manny's hangover was astounding, leaving him incapable of movement for the entire day, his only response to the world was when he screamed at someone for so much as whispering, only to clutch his head and groan in pain.

Two days after the event, the thought occurred that, whilst he certainly had the hangover to prove he had been drinking, Manny had no tangible memories of the night. And whilst this never really bothered him, Boone seemed to be avoiding him, and Manny really wanted to know why, so he could make it right.

"Hey Boone, what happened that night I got plastered?"

"You drank, got us kicked out of every casino in New Vegas, and gambled." Now, there was the odd thing. Too anyone else, it seemed like a normal Boone answer, if not longer than a normal Boone answer. But to Manny, who knew the other sniper better than anyone else, he knew that something was being left out.

Usually, after a night of serious drinking, Boone would complain about how Manny gambled away all of his caps, than weaseled Boone into not only buying another round of drinks, but of giving his caps to Manny to gamble more. He would complain about how he annoyed the prostitutes, trying to strike up conversation, and driving away their business. He would complain about how he teased the Securitrons, and almost got both their asses fried. He would complain about all these things and more, and Manny would promise not to get that drunk again, and next leave it would inevitably happen.

But Boone wasn't complaining and Manny wasn't sure how to deal with an angry Boone.

Eventually, Manny simply decided to drop it. Over the course of two weeks, Boone returned to normal, his complaining about Manny's bad habits completely welcomed for once.

It was never mentioned, for fear of bringing up 'That Night', but Boone noticed that Manny never drank that much again, always keeping some semblance of his mind.

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><p><strong>AN: I like this pairing way too much. It's just so... plausible! And you don't really know anything about their pasts besides the basic facts, so I can play with it as much as I want. Life is fun. I always imagined Manny being an annoying drunk, you know, the ones that love to get up on tables and sing bad 80's love songs?  
><strong>

**I have much more planned for these two...**  
><strong>~Vithian<strong>


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